“And whoever the sire is they’ll be after him fast.” The trainer shifted uneasily on his big feet. “Where’s John, anyway?” he growled. “Anyone could walk off with these colts right under his nose. John!” he shouted. “Hey, John! You home?”

A few minutes later a man as short and bowlegged as Henry came out of the house. When he had reached them, Henry said with feigned lightness, “Hello, John. We were hopin’ you’d be at home. Nothin’ important, though. Just lookin’ at your stock for Saratoga. Got anything else we can look at?”

John Hudson had an enormous nose and he brushed it as if to hide a wide smile. Henry had walked behind the colts and was shaking his head in disapproval.

“Do they always stand like that?” he asked. “Pull ’em up a little, Alec.”

It was then that John Hudson laughed out loud. “Who are you trying to kid, Henry? You never saw better legged colts. And you also know what they’ll bring in the ring!”

Henry shrugged his shoulders.

“Don’t give me that offhanded stuff either,” the agent said. “You’re as surprised as I was when I first saw them. They’re carbon copies of the Black and worth their weight in gold. I figured I’d be seein’ you the moment you heard about them. But I didn’t expect it to be so soon.”

Henry moved from behind the horses. “Okay, John, you win. I don’t know what I was tryin’ to prove anyway. Matter of habit, I guess. Now, these colts. Where’d you get ’em?”

“Spain.”

“That’s a big country, John. We’re old friends, remember?”

“Sure, Henry.”

“I’m lucky to be the first here.”

“I know that, Henry.”

“Who sent them to you?”

The agent ran his hand down the long neck of the chestnut colt. “A gentleman by the name of Don Angel Rafael González,” he answered.

“A friend of yours?”

“Nope. Never even heard of him before.”

“Did he contact you himself?”

John Hudson nodded. “By letter first. Then he flew them in. His own plane, too, a big cargo job with a private crew. There was money in it.